


Gods

by rhaegars_harp



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Godswood, Half-Sibling Incest, bastards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2019-06-15 16:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15417162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhaegars_harp/pseuds/rhaegars_harp
Summary: Brynden Rivers seeks refuge from the pomposity and attention that surround feasts at the Red Keep. His place of refuge is the sacred site of his gods, but he didn't expect the one person that brings him refuge to appear as well.





	Gods

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! My first EVER piece of fanfiction, and I thought there was no more deserving couple than two of the Great Bastards (and two of my favorite ASOIAF characters). While this is a borderline drabble, I wanted to share with you guys. Any compliments/criticism is appreciated, and I can't wait to get into the AO3 ASOIAF world! Enjoy!

_Five_

He had seen her waltzing through the courtyard towards him moments ago, not with his two ruby eyes, but through a pair of the innumerous lens that he could see through.

_Four_

She had to have known that those dark wings had his eyes, for the mismatched chips of jade and topaz glanced up with a purposeful look, all the while continuing her dance through the Keep.

_Three_

He was still on his knees, hands braced against the sprawling ivory roots, praying for the quietest whisper from his gods, hoping that a rustle of the leaves could alleviate the chaos of his dreams.

_Two_

With a few more steps, she’d be in his sanctuary, departing her flamboyant world of gossip and intrigue for his increasingly dark abyss of nightmares and mysticism.

_One_

“Hello Brynden.”

Never Bloodraven (or any of the worse names that people used). Always just Brynden. She was different than the rest of their eclectic group, the six dragons without the proper dragon name. He remembers his mother telling him stories of his family’s gods, and how he and Mya and Gwenys would beg her for tales of wargs and weirwoods and walls, all things that Southorn children didn’t get to hear about. He loved, and still does love, sparring with Daemon, the big brother that brought him his first bow and arrows. But the youngest of them all was special to Brynden.

When they were little children, the two of them naturally gravitated towards each other. It made sense, they looked different than everyone else, the curious bastards. One with scarlet eyes and snow-white locks, and the other with an incongruous pair of orbs and a mane of dueling silver and gold. As they grew past childhood, lessons in Valyrian and games in the Godswood morphed into the two half-dragons drawing the magic in the other’s veins out slowly, compounded by stolen touches and whispers of adoration. Now ten and seven, he was hers, through and through.

“I thought you’d still be in the castle, not a single soul could take their eyes off you.” It comes out angsty and jealous, a self-deprecating sentiment answered only by the most musical laughter Brynden had ever heard.

“You are far too easy to rile up, my love,” Shiera says in between laughs, “while I do adore the attention, I simply couldn’t find the two eyes I wished to see, and the gods know that only one person has those eyes."

He rises from his knees now, gods forgotten and prayers stolen by the slight breeze that runs through the Godswood. Unfolding his six foot frame, all milk colored skin and bones draped by a snow colored curtain of hair, Brynden approaches his mercurial lover.

“I can’t stand when he’s in his cups and thinks that he is the life of the feast. I can’t stand him when he breathes Shiera, much less when I can hear him laugh far too loudly at Daemon’s jokes.”

Her smirk fractures into a full smile, that enchanting, enigmatic smile that she has shown Brynden for ten and five years.

“So you ran away to your gods because Aegor was drunk? I forgot to mention, dearest brother, that he especially couldn’t take his eyes off me. He must be so strong, and you know how good he is with a sw-“

Shiera doesn’t get a chance to finish her teasing, as she is suddenly flush against Brynden, her periwinkle dress blending with the raven of his tunic. Her feet rise out of their slippers onto her toes as she grasps him, craving the closeness that the innate magic in their blood demands of the duo.

“I hate him Shiera. He has absolutely no right to look at you, I should take both of his eyes right now, send him back to his fat whore of a moth-“

It’s Shiera’s turn to cut her sibling off from rambling, as her hands cup the wine-stain that adorns Brynden’s ghostly face and presses her full lips to her brother's, sighing as she feels his hands grasp her waist.

“But Aegor doesn’t get _that_ , Brynden. He gets to look, he gets to fantasize, but Aegor will end his night in a Flea Bottom brothel tonight. I have a destination in mind for you, my love, that sounds a bit more enticing. I’ve been having trouble sleeping alone lately, I was hoping you could forsake your gods for an evening?”

Still not letting go of his hold on his sister’s hips, Brynden gazes down at her full lips parted, her flushed, angelic face, and the eyes that hold every ounce of mischief and promise in all the Seven Kingdoms. A night kneeling in front of a tree, or hours spent entwined beneath azure sheets with the most beautiful woman from The Wall to Dorne, from Lonely Light to Asshai?

“They can wait an evening, because _we_ _are gods_ , sister. Just you, and me.”

“Gods Brynden, _we’re gods_ ,” she whispers into his tunic, and in the twilight-draped Godswood on a summer evening, they are.


End file.
